


A Cold & Broken Hallelujah

by FindingMyPerhaps



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Gay Sex, Heartbreak, M/M, Sad Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:50:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingMyPerhaps/pseuds/FindingMyPerhaps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock was happy for John and Mary. Truly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cold & Broken Hallelujah

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iamaqualady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamaqualady/gifts).



> For Maddie because she's my only best friend, and she gifted me her story today since I beta'd it for her. Four for you, Maddie! 
> 
> Also, I totally didn't proof read this. All mistakes are mine because clearly I am trash

Sherlock Holmes was a very complex man than not many people were able to piece together. But if one person was able to do just that, it was John Watson. As a matter if fact, John had been the adhesive that held every piece of him together. Once Sherlock had been forced to fake his death, he could only hold himself together for so long. There were times where he feared he would not be able to return home to John, perhaps never be able to tell him the truth of what happened. He would hear his voice, remember his touch, and that was what kept him fighting. He had never been more thankful to bear such a heartbreaking memory.

Upon returning back to London, he was faced with the challenge of revealing himself to John. Sherlock was in a good mood, a slight smile on his face at the thought that yes, they would be reunited once more, only to return to the life they had once shared. Though when he spotted him, there was a brief second where he felt it all on him. His stomach dropped and he had half the thought to turn around, but he couldn't when he was so close to him once more. Sherlock felt the hope, fear, and love all at once.

No one ever saw the look on Sherlock's face, however, when he found that John had a lady with him. She was fairly lovely, and Sherlock had half the sense to say that he was jealous. And if his heart broke when he heard John's words, leading to what could only be a proposal, who would know? It was his only option to interrupt him, do his best, get him to notice him for Christ's sake. Even if that didn't end well, at least John hadn't asked the right question to the wrong person.

Altogether, everything went perfectly fine once John had come to terms with Sherlock having lied to him for two years. Well, "perfectly fine" being defined as everyone was fine except for Sherlock. He found that yes, Mary was a very lovely lady. How kind she was, loving, adorable in many ways. If only she were easier to hate; Sherlock wished to take back what had once been his.

There were times where Sherlock actually doubted if John even remembered what they once had. It was a memory Sherlock carried with him with sadness, but he was unable to delete it as it was all he had left. When he looked at John, his only memory was of only the two of them, alone while no one was watching. Those lips that kissed Mary's had once kissed his, those skilled doctor's hands had once been all over Sherlock. What Mary was allowed to touch, Sherlock had touched first. Though those secrets only lie between John and himself.

When months passed, the wedding to be shared between John Watson and Mary Morstan was finally coming. As tradition follows, the bride and groom were to sleep separately the night before the wedding. How fortunate it was that John had planned to stay with Sherlock that night. Well, fortunate for one reason. Unfortunate for the exact same reason.

"Why are you choosing to marry her?" Sherlock had finally been able to ask after just sitting and watching John's every move. "Not to be rude, of course. I just..." It was a wise decision for him to not continue talking.

Across from him, John sat in his old chair. It was funny to Sherlock, how John still referred to it as "his chair". "Why wouldn't I choose to marry her?" John asked with the slightest shrug. "I love her."

Sherlock was tempted to snap back with "You loved me once", but he chose that it was better not to. He held his tongue in thought. "Why do you love her, then?"

"Sherlock, just because you're not familiar with the ways of love does not make me obligated to answer your questions about it," John answered him, not knowing what those words meant to Sherlock.

"I felt love once," he snapped back, narrowing his eyes just slightly.

There was a pause before John looked downwards from Sherlock's gaze. "Did you?"

"Yes. A little over two years ago, actually." Sherlock continued to dance around the main subject that John knew he was talking about. It was almost anything but innocent.

"Did you ever stop?"

Another pause between the two of then that seemed to last for an eternity. Sherlock drew in a deep breath, tilting his head slightly to the side. "No."

John kept his face straight, but anybody would have been able to see the shift of something inside of his eyes.

"Sometimes I still see him," Sherlock continued. "He's in love with another, nowadays. Engaged, actually."

"And what do you think of that, then?"

"Well, the woman he is now engaged to is very lovely. Perhaps she's better for him than I ever was. He doesn't see it, though."

"See what?"

Again, Sherlock paused with a deep inhale. "That I am in pain. As happy as I am for him and his lovely fiancé, there is nothing I can do about my feelings. I bear the memory of what we used to have, and I can't get rid of it. When I look at him, I remember it all at once. I remember the first day, our first time, when we each first spoke those three words. I want to forget it, but at the same time, I want to keep hold of the memories."

John's face was still expressionless, and his eyes still remained away from Sherlock's. He was thinking. "That's... unfortunate."

"Indeed," Sherlock replied coldly. "It is also unfortunate that he should have nothing to say to me after I've said all of that."

"Sherlock," John began again, sitting up straighter as he tried to explain himself. "Look-"

"Don't." Sherlock interrupted him before he could continue. "Because I know what you're going to say. You'll tell me your sorry, but you don't fully mean it. You'll tell me it's too late, I lost my chance. You love Mary." It was harsh and cruel, but Sherlock could no longer keep it inside of him for so long. "Well do you ever think of where I stand in this? Have you once thought that perhaps I'm not alright? I hate to sleep because I dream of you, and I hate to be awake because I'm still constantly thinking of you!"

"Don't put the blame on me, Sherlock, do not," John answered defensively. "This is not my fault."

"Then you tell me who I am supposed to blame for my broken heart!" Sherlock had raised his voice again. He paused, sighing and closing his eyes for a moment. "John, you know me better than anyone else. You can't sit here, in front of me where you used to always sit and tell me that you don't still feel something for me." His eyes begged for something, anything from John. He needed to know. "Please, John."

"Sherlock..." He struggled to find his answer, before he glanced elsewhere once more. Without another word, he stood, seeming to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock stood as well, panic in his eyes.

"I'm going to bed. I don't know if you've noticed, but I have a wedding tomorrow. My wedding, to the woman I love."

His words had come out harsher than he intended, and Sherlock felt the slicing pain of his heart breaking upon the impact. Just as John turned again to make his way to bed, Sherlock found his tongue again.

"I love you, John Watson," Sherlock confessed. "And I hate you at the same time. I want to remember what we had, but I want to forget. I can't bloody remember to forget you."

John finally turned back to look at Sherlock. "Do you want to know what I think, Sherlock? How I feel?" He waited for a reply, but Sherlock only stared at him with an expecting look. "Sherlock, I did love you. You know I did, but now I'm in love with someone else. I'm sorry if you're upset about it, but that's just how it is. I've tried to forget about it, too."

"You can't forget it either! Neither of us couldn't possibly forget about what he had." Sherlock wasn't sure what he wanted, but he knew he needed something from John than what he was getting. He pressed on, desperate. "You remember it, John. The first time you told me you loved me, yes? The first time we kissed, the first time we made love."

"Of course I remember, Sherlock," John said in a nicer tone. "I think about it from time to time, yes. I know it isn't fair to you, but fair isn't what we really need right now. If you think I'm going to cancel my wedding tomorrow for you -"

"I wouldn't expect you to." It was cold for what Sherlock had meant, but it had to be spoken in the air between them. "I just..." His eyes casted away from John and he ran his fingers through his dark curls.

"You what, Sherlock?"

There was no possible reply that Sherlock could give John. Years spent without him, without his touch or his voice to be there to comfort him. One response could possibly give it to him, speak to him in better words that John always understood. Sherlock looked at John directly, his eyes seemingly wet with what tears he allowed out. The next second, he was on him. Giving in, Sherlock grabbed John and pressed his lips to his in a deep, meaningful kiss that said everything he couldn't say out loud.

John was unresponsive at first, almost just slightly allowing Sherlock to kiss him. Reality soon hit before he pushed Sherlock away. "Sherlock," he said his name slowly, looking into his eyes. "You know we can't. The night before my wedding; you know it's not right."

"Everything I've ever known to be right is wrong when I'm around you," Sherlock retorted. "And everything I know to be wrong is right. Just this once. One last time, I beg of you."

John debated his answer in his head, looking between Sherlock's dazzling eyes that stared for answers. "No one will know? Not a single word?"

"I would not dare," Sherlock concluded, hopefulness in his eyes. "Please, John."

Another moment's hesitation, and John was the one to grab Sherlock that time. It sealed a promise for one last night together, as something more than the friends that always were around others. Lovers, if only for hours before it went back to the normal that John called for. Gently, John ran his fingers through Sherlock's curls, missing how they felt between them. In return, Sherlock was the one to rest his hand on John's hips, allowing John to take the lead as he always had. And only John saw this side if him, the submissive part. It was heaven to his senses, and he gave no resistance as John directed then more towards Sherlock's bedroom - their bedroom for the night.

Stumbling past the door, their lips never broke apart. Quick to fall back onto the bed, something settled between them that made every memory come back. Nights spent in that bed together, lazy mornings, even. It was cruel yet kind to them, and they had an unspoken agreement that this would be drawn out as long as possible, as slow and passionate and loving as they could handle.

Article by article of clothing was removed from each of their bodies until there was nothing keeping them apart. Sherlock had what they needed, just the bottle of lube as they were both clean. John chose to do the honors, settling between Sherlock's spread legs as he uncapped the small bottle. Slowly, he began with one finger, then two and three. His skilled doctor's hands worked Sherlock open for him, placing kisses on his bare skin as he did so. Beneath him, Sherlock writhed and moaned his name breathlessly.

Once finally prepared, John withdrew his three fingers from Sherlock. He grabbed the bottle again, instead using it to lubricate his erection. His free hand grabbed for Sherlock's, intertwining their fingers as he lined himself to his entrance. Sherlock gave a short nod, and he went for it, pushing slowly into the familiar tightness and heat that was Sherlock's. A groan escaped his lips while Sherlock arched beautifully beneath him with a soft moan. How lovely he was to him, and his sad it was that this could not last forever.

His thrusts were slow and deep, and Sherlock took it all without regret. Those long legs were loosely wrapped around John's hips, pulling in him with his thrusts to feel him deeper each time. He whined, whimpered, and moaned for John, taking all that he was giving him.

Neither of them knew how long it dragged out, whether it be minutes or hours, but it felt as though it was an eternity. Finally yet too soon, both reached their peaks together. John came inside of Sherlock with a deep groan, murmuring that he loved him, loved him so much. Sherlock followed immediately after him, his breath hitching as he clutched John, moaning his name as though it were a prayer, caressing his lips gently as they slipped. His final "I love you" he could possibly offer him.

For the first time in a long time, their hearts seemed to beat together. If only it could have lasted longer.

  
-

  
As promised, no one found out about what had happened that night before the wedding. The wedding day went well for everyone, despite perhaps the murdering photographer that tried to ruin it. John and Sherlock were each completely professional and kept normal despite the previous night. And if Sherlock's lips quirked slightly when asked for any objections to their marriage, who could really blame him?

Perhaps the initial heartbreak didn't happen until late at night. "You won't be needing me around now that you've got a real baby on the way," Sherlock had said with a smile, meaning it as a joke. He'd hurt himself in saying so, slowly allowing his smile to drop as he looked at John. There was almost the same look in John's eyes. His last farewell from Sherlock, cutting the strings that had once held them together.

And if Sherlock left the wedding early with his old dealer's number in his mind, well... who could blame him?

**Author's Note:**

> "I would like to thank absolutely no one for this award because I made it on my own by working my ass off, that is all"


End file.
